


Achilles' Heel

by orphan_account



Category: Black Survival (Video Game)
Genre: :), Drabble, F/F, One Shot, also uhhh alex child im so sorry for killing you off, im probs the only ayala shipper, lets be real, no one's probably gonna read this anyway, or a, three out of the four characters die, where are allthe ayala fics at, why am i even tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 04:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sunset casts Aya’s back in a saccharine glow as she walks away, wildflowers falling from her hair as she pulls it into a ponytail once more.[TL;DR, a self-indulgent Ayala drabble/one shot ;3)





	Achilles' Heel

**Author's Note:**

> Who'd even read this anyway— but there are. Too. Little. Fics. In. BS?! Where are all my other writers at?? And I'm a Chinese who failed Mandarin why are half of the fics in Mandarin what is this-

Adela is a logical person.

 

Being thrown onto Lumia and forced to fight, quite literally, for her life, is faced with the same cold logic with which she outmaneuvers and checkmates her opponents across the board, unflappable as the Queen she’s known to favour.

 

She knows that love gets you killed in a place like this. Just look at Jenny and Fiora, who do their best to steer clear of each other in hopes that someone- or some _thing_ will finish them off before they’re pitted against each other. Logically, relationships aren’t meant to last one this god-forsaken island. 

 

But Aya's lethargic smile as Adela weaves wildflowers in her hair is like the sun after the monsoon rains, and for a moment Adela almost forgets about the bandages binding the fingers with which she braids strands of ebony, a constant reminder of the life they’re forced to live.

 

They lean against the grimy walls of the Chapel, the lull of the seas reminding her of the fjords back home. Adela wonders if she can close her eyes and pretend that they’re in Leikanger— any moment now, and she’d hear the shutters of the camera go off as her brother takes photographs to be used as blackmail material.

 

Then Aya gets up, and the spell is broken.

 

The sirens wail as the areas are restricted, and Adela can faintly hear the sounds of an explosion somewhere up north. Aya is throwing out a magazine, and loads a new one as one of the researchers’ voice drones on:

 

_‘There are four survivors left.’_

 

The sunset casts Aya’s back in a saccharine glow as she walks away, wildflowers falling from her hair as she pulls it into a ponytail once more.

 

They don’t exchange goodbyes, or ‘see you’s. (Everyone either walks away to die or comes back for your blood.)

 

Adela bends down, and picks the magazine from the ground. She decides to keep it in her coat pocket, for luck—

 

There’s a whistling of the wind, and she lurches as an arrow finds its mark, impaling itself in her lung. She turns around to meet the eyes of Arda. (She knows that no matter how hard she looks, she won’t find regret in them— days, weeks, _months_ of mindless killings does that to a person.)

 

Her right hand, miraculously, is still in her pocket and grasps the cool metal of a grenade. She wills her hand to be still as she pulls the pin, the Turk’s eyes widening in surprise as she lobs it at him.

 

A day ago, Adela would’ve been the one behind the bow. Logic would’ve screamed at her to scale the roof of the dilapidated chapel and strike down the others from there.

 

Logic had been promptly told to shut up when Aya arrived, bearing arms and an offer of alliance as she sees to the wounds Adela had received courtesy of Alex. (The Russian spy had bled out mere moments ago from bullets that matched the Barretta Aya seems to favour.)

 

She curses Aya Suzuki, for being her Achilles heel.

**Author's Note:**

> [Before you ask- yes, I know that Aya doesn't actually tie up her hair; but who even fights with long hair?! I struggle at playing volleyball without hair falling into my face everyhalf second- and my hair's the short bisexual haircut!]
> 
> Did i mention that i really love the Chapel?
> 
> Anyway, yay! You made it this far,, 539 words of utter crap! Thanks for dropping by~


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